


The Lost Journal

by zooba



Category: Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 13:33:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zooba/pseuds/zooba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There has been an addition to the brides of Dracula. His cult is growing and Dracula better watch his back because a new vampire might be emerging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lost Journal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dark Wind](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Dark+Wind).



The Lost Journal

October 3  
As my tongue thrust into the cleanly open slit in his chest, I was overwhelmed with satisfaction. The balminess of the blood soothed my senses and compelled my now ivory canines to sink deeper into the equally pale flesh of Him. The few crimson streams that escaped my eager lips were the only severances between the ends of my lips from the start of his breast. Despite the heightening pleasure, an all too intrusive feeling burned into the back of my skull. Two penetrating eyes maintained a gaze that was absorbing our intimate position. It was Jonathan.

Thrown to the bed and laying in my gown which was engorged with the evidence of my unthinkable actions, my body conveyed weakness and horror. I saw Him rush out, in a vapor, gone. I knew I had to show a sense of detest for this creature that was so evil and repulsive. Yet, an unexplainable feeling surged from deep within me, a feeling that I had never felt before with Jonathan or anything else. It was a sense of satisfaction, of intense attraction, of belonging—how would I be able to deliver believable feelings of disgust, when all I wanted to do was to run after Him? But, I couldn’t move. I tried to slow my breathing and clear the beads of sweat that bordered my face; I could smell the rankness of metal and perspiration. 

The door crashed and the men woke me from my pleasurable trance. Jonathan, in his own stupor, displayed emotions that were ambiguous: stimulated, horrified, intrigued, or terrified. The thick yellow air accentuated the fear on their faces. Involuntarily, I cried out. Relief and confusion exited and concealed my longing for Him. Laying there being entombed with the blood speckled coverlet, His words echoed in my head “flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, kin of my kin.” I knew that his words were true and that my place was with him. Fingering the stains left on the blanket, I envisioned his breast against my lips and my mouth being infused with his nourishing liquid.

November 6  
It has been awhile since I have been able to write in this journal. I keep my journal a secret and possess it for business that is my own. Van Helsing has been keeping an intent eye on me and it has been of great difficulty to record any of what has been occurring. Even at night, when I am awake and he is supposed to be resting, he maintains a level of conscientiousness that I am not comfortable with. Thus, my book has remained at my breast close to my slowly beating heart. At times when I hunger for the blood that so refreshes me, I can feel the potency of Him coursing through my thinning veins. 

Our journey draws us closer to His castle. The attraction is so strong it takes all of me not to scale the mountain and reunite with he who I desire. It is at this point that I begin to acknowledge the long wait I will have to endure before I will take my rightful place with Him. But despite my intense longing, I will commit to a self-proscribed indentured servitude. Though my services are only displayed by my patience, it is all that I can accomplish—for now.  
Seven years later

Jolted from daytime slumber, I capture the sun just as sets behind the hills. I feel him. He is here. I hear footsteps approaching me slowly from the hallway. Jonathan has not returned and I sit alone just waking for the long night. The door opens with a loud bang, obliterating the already cracked picture that hung behind it. It was a photograph that was taken before the Crew of Light had dispersed. To Jonathan, it was a reminder of his adventures and courage; to me, it was a symbol of my imprisonment and constant turmoil. Grabbing the fragments of the torn picture and shattered glass, I looked down at my son whose eyes were flooded with apology. I no longer feel guilt when I do not match his glance with an equal feeling of compassion. 

My senses have gained great strength as I have been able to hone my skills for hunting without being caught like my dear friend Lucy. I know I sensed Him; I could never forget the presence and power I felt when I was with him. 

Dismissing my son, I return to my position in bed under a dark canopy of thickly constructed curtains. I pull the curtains and feel secure by its barrier. Once in my clothe crypt, I focused my attention on sensing the location of Him. It is closer than it has ever been before. I know he is here. He has changed, something is different.

A shadow emerges and I can see a figure floating around the perimeter of my secluded persons. My normally almost nonexistent heartbeat speeds to a rhythm that can actually be felt. My breath increases and a sensation burns from within me. A hand wraps its fingers around the flap to the small opening. The curtain wrinkles as the grasp tightens. 

The opening is spread in a furious motion and I am pinned to an inordinate amount of white sheets. The softness of my tomb does not compensate for the pain that surges through my body as her nails dig into my wrists. I picture that at this point we were almost invisible; if it was not for our hair color and the pool of blood form beneath both of my arms we would have been in our own world. We were in our own world. Both dressed in equally white nightgowns, I believe that we both looked beautiful in this moment.

As the blood drizzled out of my arms, between her clenched fingers, and onto the bedding, her gaze captured me. I could no longer feel the throbbing in my wrists and before I knew it, her mouth was latched to my neck. It was there just a moment and it was clear that she had only slightly broken the skin. I could feel her breathe against my neck; it rustled my hair gently. As her lips grazed lightly down my neck, I could feel her approaching my breast. In an excited response, I inhaled deeply pushing out my breasts which was all too inviting for her. This time she broke the skin and I could feel her tongue catching any threatened loss of blood. She released her grasp and I could taste my blood on her tongue as she pressed her voluptuous lips against mine. And then as I accepted her intrusion, we were gone.

The next night  
I awoke the next night and found myself encased in some sort of a box. I was confused as to why I was in such a small space but the confinement and silk interior gave me too much comfort to get out. That was the best sleep I had ever had.

Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice coming from outside of my box. She was arguing with another woman. I heard phrases that articulated what seemed to be diner plans and sexual relations. I was confused and pushed on the lid to see where I was and who was arguing. As I did, the door was slammed shut tight. I banged on the lid and started to scream.

“Oh, calm down you whore,” I heard someone exclaim. I immediately ceased my frantic attempts to escape. Recently, I had begun to realize that I could not be mortally harmed. A few weeks before I was washing dishes and a knife stabbed me in the wrist. The pain was excruciating and I had lost a lot of blood. However, the wound healed quickly and besides an abnormally large appetite, I was fine. So, now I wonder why I became so frantic in a situation that could obviously do very little harm to me. Regardless, I felt vulnerable and the box was no longer of any comfort.

“Let me out then,” I retaliated. 

“No, we don’t need another filthy whore around here. We have enough of those.”

“Excuse me. I do recall that you were the one that had your way with her before bringing her to us,” said the familiar voice. I now knew they were talking about me and that the conversation had definitely taken a turn for a sexually driven course. 

“Well, it was just too easy. Besides, I had to know what we were dealing with before I brought her all the way back. She was reluctant at first but by the end, I could tell that she was malleable.”  
I had heard enough. “Let me out now!” I was now becoming furious and I could feel my hands begin to shake. I slammed my fist against the cover of the box and knocked the girl standing on it off. I was free. 

“Wow, I guess she does have more in her than we thought,” the familiar voice chuckled  
to the woman now seated next to what I presumed was a coffin. There were five other coffins in the room. Each of them was of different hue and of different shapes and sizes. Some had dirt surrounding them; others had dirt spilling out of the side. The stench was putrid and yet, it was not unbearable. Yanking my eyes away from the unfamiliar and fascinating décor of, what looked like, an underground room, I locked eyes with the person who was projecting the familiar voice. It was Lucy. I couldn’t believe it was her; she had been vanquished. The Crew of Light had destroyed her and I was in utter amazement of what I was seeing.

I stuttered an unsure “Lucy?”

“Yes,” she replied with a look that made me feel that I was mad just for asking. 

“But, I thought you had been killed or destroyed or whatever.”

“Well there are always loopholes and exceptions Mina. That is something that you learn when you are beautiful. I have always found the exemptions. While others,” she paused to clear her throat, “have to work for things and don’t receive the benefits of beauty. I just know how to use my resources.”

“You mean the benefits of having sex with several men and in your case women?” interjected the woman who had been standing on my coffin.

Lucy hissed and showed her teeth while the other woman did the same. Instinctively, I stepped in between the two. I am not sure as to why I did that but nevertheless, it got them to stop. In an attempt to divert their attention to something other than ripping each other apart, literally, and probably me as well, I asked “So, I heard you talking about eating. How do we acquire food?”

“You don’t” said both women in unison. This was followed by a sharp smack to the face by Lucy which immediately knocked me to the floor. As soon as my head it the ground, I felt the rush of blood to my ears and my arms and legs were tied just as fast. They picked me up and began walking up the stairs. The unfamiliar woman tripped and dropped me. Because my hands were tied, there was no stopping my fall. My head hit off of one of the steps. I was out. 

When I Awoke  
I am no longer sure as to what day or time it is. The room I woke up in had no windows and the exhausted candles projected an unsteady yellow glow. My hands were untied and there were now four women standing along the deteriorating gray brick wall. The room was circular and there was only one door which did not present itself as a viable escape route. 

“So, what now?” I asked trying to muster up as much gall as possible. 

“Now, you eat” said the woman with wavy brunette hair closest to the door. She was beautiful and intimidating. It was obvious that she could command a room with a single glance. She was powerful and voluptuous and everything that made me yearn to know more about her.

“What do I eat?” I asked this hesitantly. I was at the mercy of these beautiful vampires and there was nothing about my environment that I could control; I was vulnerable and my stomach was churning. 

The lead vampire pointed to Lucy who was emerging from the shadows with something following her. For the first time, in a long time, compassion and actual attachment rushed over me. From behind Lucy, my son was flung at me. He stumbled to the ground and looked up at me with his all too apologetic eyes and his perfect mix between his father and myself. The emotions that flooded me were too much. I raced towards the door but the powerfully beautiful leader glided in front of it. I ran right into her. Our bodies were touching and I could feel her breasts, her face, her breath against me. We made eye contact and it seemed like it last forever. Her gaze was overwhelming; my body felt that it would melt into hers. 

She placed her hands on shoulders and said “you don’t care about this boy, it is not in you to care and you know that.” I did know that. I had felt it every day since he was born. What would make a grim environment make my feelings change. Her hands had drifted down my arms and clasped my hands. We stood there hand-in-hand, not moving. He raised my hand to her luscious lips and gently slid her lips from my wrists to my fingertips. I could feel her fervent tongue behind her lips and I wanted more. 

I unwillingly broke the gaze and within the same moment was latched onto the neck of my son. My canines sank into his skin easier than it had with any other being I had fed on. His blood was fresh and revitalizing. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the satisfaction creep across her face. I broke the bond and Quincey collapsed to the floor. His breathing was shallow but still present. She walked toward and licked the residue from my lips. We embraced and her kiss was even more satisfying than the youthful blood I had just drunk. She was powerful and I am not sure if I will ever be able to quench my thirst for her. 

Just then, the door opened. It was Him. He glided across the aged floor and stopped right next to us. I was still in her embrace, now looking to her for some certainty. There was none. He placed his hand on her should and with one sharp lunge, forced her into the wall behind her. Her feet left the floor and her limp body crashed into the bricks. Dust escaped the crivices that were caked with old mortar and dirt. The powder dusted her hair and peppered her shoulders. She looked as if she had aged right before my eyes: her now grey, clothes dingy and torn, and the terror that overtook her face created creases that were bottomless. 

Remaining as still as possible, I could hear Quincey begin to regain conscientiousness. I had almost forgotten that he was even present. The tall dark man looked at me and asked, “do you know who I am?”

“You are the man that came to my room that night,” I said with all the conviction that I could maintain.

“Yes, but you know who I am?” His eyes were now fixed to mine. I tried to escape his stare but it was impossible.

“No.”

“I am Dracula. I am the leader and patriarch of this family.” He was interrupted by an all too perfect timed cough. He starred at all of the women but none of them flinched. It was obvious that there was a unanimous dislike for him. Now, looking at the boy he continued, “Do you know why we have brought you here, both of you?”

“No.”

“We have brought you here because we at a time when we need to expand our colony. And, not only do we need to expand our female population, which is our best assets for obtaining new members, if we remember not to kill all of those who we are trying to convert, but we need another male component to help me control all of you incompetent women.” There was an immediate snarl that came from each of them. “So, as you see,” he continued, “you have not transformed your son into a vampire—yet—you have only implanted the taste and desire for the blood. He can still age and will still age until he is old enough to be converted.”

Looking at my son and his now fair complexion, I began to imagine him in a position of greatness. I could see him becoming like me and understanding where my compulsions derived from. He looked up at me and for the first time, I felt genuine compassion and love. He would be great.

8 years later  
I have been preoccupied and have recorded some of my actions in other scrap pieces of paper and things that I could find. Time has slipped away from me with my concentration on training and preparing Quincey. He has reached the age where he is ready for his full transformation. I can see his power and the desire in his eyes. He watches Dracula intently. He follows all of his steps and is such a quick learner. The two will be able to make an invisible pair in the strengthening of our colony.

At the coronation he was dressed in his ceremonial garments. The long black clothes accentuated his muscles and youth profoundly. I noticed several of the other women eyeing his handsome figure as he moved to the center to meet Dracula, his feet barely touching the floor. Dracula began and all of us encircled them. On Dracula’s word, he plunged his sharp fangs into the neck of my dear son. It seemed like it lasted forever. They stood in their embrace; Quincey bent backwards and clutching the back of Dracula. It looked like it took everything from Dracula to hold the now strengthening body of Quincey. Dracula released his grip with a gasp. His breathing was heavy and it was obvious that he was weak. Quincey stood tall and strong and his eyes were fiercer than ever. He looked around at his followers and then back at the stumbling Dracula. Qunicey slid towards him and placed his hand on his shoulder to help steady him. Qunicey looked down at Dracula with his hand still on his shoulder and said aloud “flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, kin of my kin” and sunk his teeth deep into the neck of Dracula. He held it there until there was nothing left. Quincey had sucked everything out of Dracula. Once the last drop had been consumed he threw Dracula to the floor and addressed his followers as he stood there with his face and shirt drenched in the blood of our fallen leader. He said “it is a new time and it begins with me.”


End file.
